Tumgik
#i am particularly mentally unwell today
seungminheart · 5 months
Note
lmao thinking abt seungmin trying to be a softdom since ur a bit sulky but literally cant help but to degrade u
pairing: kim seungmin x fem!reader word count: 2.2k warnings: established relationship, crybaby reader lol, dom!seungmin, degradation, fingering (f. rec), orgasm denial, spit play, dumbification, choking (f. rec), u know the usual (i am mentally unwell u can never send me anything abt seungmin without me acting up just a psa)
Tumblr media
you have, on occasion, been told that you are too mouthy for your own good. on others, that you don't listen very well. it seems, when you belatedly consider the disastrous situation you are currently in—that both statements might be true.
"seungmin, you're so mean."
"really? am i?"
you know it is a mistake the second he says those words. seungmin is sitting across from you at the dining table, and he speaks so calmly that anyone else would think nothing is wrong.
but you know your boyfriend well enough to recognize the look in his eyes. he doesn't have to say anything for you to know that you have pissed him off.
still, you refuse to take your words back, so you stand your ground.
"yes," you cross your arms with a pout.
he sets down his phone to give you his undivided attention.
"what did i do?"
"you know..."
"no," he says. "i don't."
you pout, feeling only a little bit silly.
despite what you said to him, seungmin hasn't done anything particularly mean—other than ignore you when you were being purposefully annoying. still, you you find it a little bit of a let down that he still refuses to entertain your antics.
"i won't know what you're talking about if you don't tell me."
you know its true, and yet you still don't want to admit defeat. only, as the moments stretch out before you with no reaction from seungmin, dread begins to build up in your stomach.
it's only a matter of time before he scolds you, or worse...
a thrill travels down your spine at the thought of all the ways he might punish you for bothering him.
maybe it is a bit bratty to act out like this in hopes that he might get angry, but after so long with you, seungmin should be used to it. that's the routine you have—you push and push until he gets fed up and teaches you a lesson.
the only question is, what lesson will it be today?
but then, instead of berating you (or better yet, taking your hand and dragging you to the bedroom) seungmin simply lets out a sigh.
"i'm sorry," seungmin says, "i'll try to be nicer from now on."
"...okay," you respond, not sure what to make of him.
he must be playing at something, you know, because he would never apologize for something unless he knew that he had actually offended you.
and so, you spend the rest of the day in a weird haze, wondering what demon has possessed your boyfriend. you go to bed with the same strange feeling, but when you wake up the next morning, the thought of his weird behavior leaves your mind completely.
that is, until later that day, when seungmin presses you into the mattress of your shared bed.
this position isn't a new one—there have been countless times before that you have found yourself beneath him, helpless as he takes control.
today, however, even as seungmin cages you in with his legs on either side of your hips and his hands cupping your face, he seems awfully subdued.
maybe it is the languid way his lips work against the column of your neck, sweet and sincere as he takes his time sucking bruises against your soft skin. maybe it is the way that his thumb caresses your jaw with an uncharacteristic amount of tenderness, not making any move to press against your throat or into your mouth as it usually would when you are being too loud for seungmin's liking.
maybe, instead, it is the fact that he has been kissing you for long enough that you are sure you have soaked through your panties and your sleep shorts and he hasn't made any move to escalate things.
"s-seung," you gasp. "minnie, please."
"yes?" he mouths against your skin.
"touch me," you whimper, your bottom lip snagged beneath your teeth.
"i am touching you," he says.
"noooo," you whine. "here."
your fingers wrap around his hand, guiding it down between your legs.
"oh," he nods knowingly.
his fingers ghost over your inner thighs, and you press your hips upwards into the warmth of his touch.
"whatever you want, baby," seungmin murmurs, the pads of his fingers rubbing circles into your skin.
you almost weep when his hands travels upwards underneath your shorts to run lightly over your clothed core.
"feels good?" he asks. you nod quickly.
seungmin smiles sweetly at you as he continues his ministrations, slow and relaxed. the pressure with which he presses his fingers against you varies, sometimes soft and sometimes more firm, leaving you squirming against him despite the snail-like pace he moves at.
a staccato of moans slip past your lips and you roll your hips pathetically against his hand. seungmin's touch is just enough to leave you dripping, and yet in between the ebbs of pleasure, you find yourself confused.
the way that he presses his fingers against you and peppers kisses down your neck is so unfamiliar and strange that you don't know what to make of it.
it is so unlike your boyfriend to be so slow and gentle with you. it's not that he doesn't know how to be, it is just that he loves things rough and he knows how much you do, as well.
and yet, even as your moans continue to grow more high pitched and needy, seungmin simply continues to touch you like you are a fragile doll.
"seungmin," you whine, "more, please."
he is still touching you through your panties, but you feel two seconds away from imploding.
"shhh, i got you," seungmin soothes.
and then, his feather light touch bears down on you, his fingers expertly finding your clit even through the lace fabric of your underwear.
you jolt underneath him at the sudden onslaught as his fingers make quick work of you, relentless and warm as he coaxes you closer towards your high.
"m-min," you squeal, gripping onto his forearm. "o-oh—"
"yes?"
your core spasms, arousal leaking from you as your breath stutters in your chest.
"close," you gasp. "so close, so, so so close, please."
seungmin leans in to lick a wet stripe against your pulse point, and you go rigid, almost there—
and yet, somehow no matter how good it feels, you find yourself stuck. it is a strange sensation, being so close to the edge and yet not being able to get past it.
"i—i—" you choke out.
"what's wrong?" seungmin asks, and his fingers slow down until he is touching you so gently you can hardly feel it.
"it's not enough," you wail, surprised to find your eyes wet with tears of frustration.
"what do you mean?" he asks.
"i don't know," you warble.
"don't cry, baby," seungmin murmurs, the hand that is not on your cunt reaching up to wipe away a tear. "am i not making you feel good?"
"y-you are!" you cry, your hips circling upwards into his hand in hopes of relieving the pressure between your thighs. "it's just—"
"what is it?"
"not enough," you repeat pathetically.
"oh," seungmin says, nodding once, and then he leans back on the bed, pushing himself onto his knees. his hands leave you, and a choked whine catches in your throat at the loss of his touch.
"i get it."
"huh?" you sniffle, your lips pouting as you look at him. why is he so far away from you?
"am i being too nice for you?"
"what?" your eyes widen.
"i think the problem is that i'm not being mean enough," seungmin says. "my baby needs it rough for it feel really good, doesn't she?"
"n-no," you whisper, even as your thighs rub together at his words.
"my baby needs to be told how much of a dirty little slut she is, hmm?" he continues on. "so desperate to get off that you're crying and you haven't even gotten my cock yet."
"seungmin," you whimper.
"what? am i being too mean?" he mocks, and it finally clicks.
"...no."
"what was that?" he asks, smiling meanly at you.
"please," you mumble. "please, be mean to me."
"so dirty," he clicks his tongue. "you want me to be mean? you get off on it?"
you nod quickly, your eyes still watery.
"hmm," seungmin looks unimpressed as he looks down at you, and his indifference sends a thrill down your spine, to your cunt.
"up." a finger taps your side, and obediently, you lift your hips for him.
seungmin wastes no time in sliding your shorts and underwear off, leaving you naked from the waist down.
"so messy," he says, his palms pressing your thighs open as he looks down at your core. "this wet and you still couldn't come?"
"m-min—" you begin.
"sorry, that wasn't an invitation for you to answer."
your jaw snaps shut.
"guess i'll have to see if my cock is enough to make you feel good," he sighs, as if disappointed. "since my fingers weren't enough."
"they were," you insist. "they were!"
"really?" he raises a brow. "i guess you don't need anything more, then."
"no," you cry immediately. "no, please."
"make up your mind, baby," seungmin tells you. "my fingers or my cock?"
"cock," you burst out.
"okay..."
you squirm at the dissatisfied way he says it, and your mouth waters when his pushes himself up, sliding his pants and boxers down.
"you're drooling," he notes as he holds himself by the base, his dick hard and leaking. "how slutty."
"only f-for you," you mumble.
"i'd hope so," he rolls his eyes.
and then he crawls forward until his dick is right below your mouth. immediately, your mouth opens.
"no," he chastises you when you lower your head. "dirty girls like you don't get to suck my cock."
you whimper at his words, looking up at him from beneath your tearstained lashes in hopes that he will take it back.
"spit," he tells you instead.
a muffled moan slips past your lips and you do as he says, letting the spit dribble out of your mouth onto the head of his dick.
his lips purse and he moves backwards, spreading your spit across his dick in one, two, three swift movements along the shaft of his cock.
"now," seungmin says as he positions himself in between your thighs, the head of his cock barely brushing against your folds. "i'm going to fuck you, and you're going to come. right?"
"yes," you moan, the feeling of him hot and heavy against you having you tensing up.
"if you don't come before me," seungmin says, "you don't come at all."
and then, before you have a chance to reply, he is pushing inside of you, inch by inch.
"seung—" you choke out at the feeling of him, fresh tears welling up in your eyes.
"crying again?" he mocks, punctuating his words with a delicious roll of his hips.
"f-feels so good," you whimper.
"i'm sure it does," he grunts, his hips building a steady pace as he fucks into you, his cock hitting the deepest part of you.
"so good," you repeat, your eyes squeezing shut. "sososo—"
"you already said that, baby," seungmin points out.
"min," you whine, unable to articulate anything else.
"aw, am i fucking you so good that you can't speak?"
instead of answering, you just moan at his words.
"that's right," a hand comes up to bracket the side of your throat, holding your neck in place. "just be quiet and let me take care of you. a dirty little slut like you doesn't know what she needs, does she?"
"please," you squeal, a sharp whine squeezing its way out of your mouth. "seung, it's so—"
"i know," he smooths your hair down before moving his hand back down to your hip, pressing you further into the mattress.
"close," you gasp out.
"you gonna come this time?" he asks, voice patronizing as he presses against your neck. "or is this not enough for you either?"
and then, he picks up his pace, fucking you so hard the bed shakes beneath you.
"s-so—"
you aren't sure where you begin and end, with the feeling of hot tears pricking your eyes and the heat that builds up inside of your stomach, but as seungmin continues to roll his hips into you, you feel yourself shatter, your orgasm strong enough that you end up crying even as he fucks you through it.
seungmin continues to move inside of you, whispering filthy words in your ear as you writhe beneath him until you have finally come down from your high.
"there you go," he says. "guess all you needed to come were a few mean words here and there."
"mmhmm," you hum in agreement, your legs tingling and your core throbbing from sensitivity.
"seung," you whine eventually, cringing from the overstimulation.
"oh, no, baby," he pouts, his hips still rolling slowly against you. "did you think that was all? i'm not done being mean to you just yet..."
671 notes · View notes
czesca · 1 year
Text
what is post limit actally like whats the number. do we think if i am particularly mental unwell today (which i am)i can hit 50k posts today. we are so close
9 notes · View notes
astrcls · 6 months
Note
Several days later a small package arrives at the Seat of Divine Foresight from Heron Express, directed to General Jing Yuan. It's already been inspected and deemed safe. The return address simply lists "Astral Express".
Within the box is a padded bag of three tiny, glass jars filled with some sort of creamy substance, and paper labels handwritten in flowing Xianzhan; Scar Cream. It seems someone has repurposed some of the Express' old kitchen supplies for medical use.
There is also a very short letter in the same handwriting; I use this myself, particularly on my own burns. I've been working on improving the formula lately. I hope it helps. ~Dan Heng
It's a start.
~starlighttrain
& unprompted asks.
Tumblr media
after having lived for such a long time, jing yuan has come to be grateful for the small things: warm breezes, cheery bird-songs, stepping into a ray of sunlight that hits just right and warms one to one's core. the first night's sleep at home after a long time spent fighting abroad. the absence of pain, where pain once was. finally being able to breathe through one's nose again after one has been unwell. knees that remain spry and supple even on the coldest day of winter. the days when work somehow flies by faster than usual; the nights when dreams are kind.
today, he adds another thing to his mental list: receiving a gift from someone he was certain would never be able to get past their misgivings.
( jing yuan is a great many things to a great many people, but he is first and foremost the arbiter-general of the luofu --- a veteran with countless accolades to his name, countless battles under his belt. he knows an olive branch when he sees one. )
it's a stiff-knees day today, but no matter. jing yuan sits slowly at his desk, unpackaging the jars cautiously and examining their contents. carefully, he removes the lid on one, swiping a tenuous fingertip of cream against the burns on his forearm --- and then another, and another, as the smile on his face grows, softly and slowly and surely.
in a few days' time, a letter arrives at the astral express, written and addressed to dan heng in jing yuan's neat, square handwriting:
dan heng,
thank you for your thoughtful gift. your formula is quite effective, and i have been putting it to good use. i am noticing improvements already. it was very kind of you to think of me, and i hope that one day i, too, can provide you with a gift of equal measure and value. but in the meantime, i hope my best wishes for your continued health and safe travels will suffice.
warm regards, 景元
Tumblr media
@starlighttrain / @tellescope
1 note · View note
humansun · 10 months
Text
24 was growth, 25 is still growth!
Written June 1st, 2023 at 12:24AM
It’s interesting how in retrospect, I found the reasons why the mistakes happened when they did. Most importantly, I am walking away with a few valuable and useful lessons for my future.
As time is moving by quite fast, I find that the moments I choose to slow down are important.
Today, I slowed down.
I learned that in the year of being 24 years old, a majority of it being in the year of the tiger, various instances ended up being important stepping stones in my journey to today. For example, my biggest issue in my relationship ended up being me. I’m certain I am the problem for most of my relationships in my life. lol
Being mentally unwell is a real issue. The distortion of my reality affects my peace. I blow situations out of proportion, create volatile experiences for those I care for, and struggle to maintain a level of healthy consistency.
It’s been difficult to reach these conclusions. It’s hard to resist to become a better me. Gaining good habits and being a healthier person takes intention, but also action and execution.
In the meantime, I am grateful to have had the conversations I did. I am still continuing to grow each day.
The person I thought I was, is not the person I want to be moving forward. I accept her, but the person I want to be is strong, capable, transparent, stable, loving, and wonderful. This all takes a lot to build and grow into, which is why I want to take it seriously today.
I will stop taking things personally. I will observe my feelings and try to understand why I feel the way I do. I will speak up as soon as I start feeling strange about my emotions. I will be communicative about what I am feeling immediately after I feel it. I will speak with kindness and care to those around me. I will not victimize myself, because the world is not against me. I will be open to people being displeased with me and be okay with that.
There are many things to tackle. It’s almost like what comes with the good, also comes with the bad. But perhaps the bad ends up being the good. The gift in the end.
Written June 1st, 2023 at 9:47AM
Hi! Yesterday was an adventure. I went to the gym in the morning, had that intense emotional situation with my friend, confronted it, and continued on with my day.
I opened my high yields savings account, went to work, and had a great time discussing films and their storylines. I met a filmmaker I’ve been admiring for a while now, and it felt full circle to meet someone I had been wanting to meet a couple years back.
The evening portion of my day ended up being very important for me. I initially set out to play an online game with a friend, but that lead to a very insightful and tough conversation about what I could do to be a better friend.
It was an enlightening conversation. I learned about my anxious moments and how they negatively affect my life as well as the lives of those around me. It was a redefining conversation for me and it has changed how I want to move forward about my behavior in the future, particularly when it comes to people around me who I care for and love.
Written 1:56PM
Dang. I could tell I’m avoiding my work. Like big time. 
0 notes
d-i-d-moi · 1 year
Text
OK then girls, yes good morning to you too.
If we make a distinction between the world we live in and the world we inhabit.
Just writing that I can see more layers but I'm gonna keep this simple.
The world we live in is the physical one. No one has asked to be born here. Every inhabitant of this physical world has limited ability to change it although we may impact it greatly.
Stay with me on this
The world we inhabit is the one our mind creates, the one where our thoughts are, emotions too, and where we give things meanings. This is not meant to run riot on us but invariably does, design fault and a half (no offence to any creator if there actually is one), but there you go. This world can be particularly difficult if you have any form of trauma or are unwell in the mental or emotional health department of life.
It is not impossible to change our thoughts so they are more helpful, kinder, healthier. I have. Now I need to revisit how I did that so I can help those of you lovely young ones who were not with me at that time to learn to do it too.
So, yes, we can chat here about that, absolutely.
So, today, each time my thoughts start to take you, me, us to a negative place like - "life will never change I will be alone forever", or the age old one "no one loves, no one ever will, people always leave me". I will pause, take a moment, let the thoughts pass by, focus on a sound from around me, ground myself in the physical place in that moment and say "Whatever happens I will be all right, we will be all right". Or "I love you, I love me, I am a valid person too." Try doing this with me girls please. This is for you to heal.
Being alone no longer means we are unloved, in danger, will die, or that our life will always be "this way". Remember all the times we have changed our life? OK, no, newbie girls won't. we can have a chat about that sometime.
Please remember whilst last year we believed our life was finally starting, the trauma was going, we were nearing the end of it, we met someone who liked us as we liked them and then the trauma started to come back, we realised we weren't where we thought we were and yes it is similar to what happened to me when I was 40, I felt my body fully for the first time, without any pain, it was awesome, beautiful, finally my healing process has worked I said to myself, now i can start living my life, I can be in a relationship, might be able to have the kid thing, but: no. Then we fused, which I am exceptionally grateful for, but boy was that painful and then some and without reprieve for a year and a half. This time round, there are hallmarks, the pain is different. I am now getting a reprieve from it and feel like I am healing. The pain is not continuous, although I appreciate it has been intense and very difficult for me to manage. Right now, the waves are manageable.
I am trying my best. I'm only human. I say this as a simple fact, not as an excuse. Never think I don't love you or care for you: I do.
1 note · View note
brucewhite · 2 years
Text
Talking It Through, Part IV | Oneshot
Bruce and Doug talk about what happened to Magicks this summer, and what it means for Bruce’s identity struggles. (For context: Talking It Through Parts I, II, and III)
Date: 11 August 2022 Warnings: Mental health topics
With both Bruce and Doug feeling unwell, the past few sessions had been postponed. Bruce was relieved, then, when August brought the end of the mysterious illnesses plaguing all the Magicks in Swynlake. For a lot of reasons, mainly because he hated being sick and had started to get really worried about some people, but also because he missed his conversations with Doug. They weren’t always easy. But Bruce usually left feeling better.
He had hoped today would leave him feeling better. Things were getting better, magic was back in full force around town, and Bruce no longer felt sick all the time, but it wasn’t uncomplicated. First, he’d noticed his appetite for fish returning. Then, he’d done it again-- tearing through one of his roommates’ leftover salmon one night, and then having to pretend he’d thrown it out because he thought it had gone bad.
“I just thought I was finally getting the hang of acting like a human,” Bruce sighed, squinting through the harsh early-morning sunlight. 
“And you think being hungry makes you less like a human?” Doug asked, seemingly unable to contain his bemusement at the question.
Bruce shook his head. “Okay, no, that came out wrong-- I was really getting the hang of the vegan thing.”
“Why do you need to get the hang of the vegan thing? If it’s not working for you, Bruce, it’s not working for you. Everyone has different needs--”
“I don’t want to have different needs!” Bruce said, exasperated. “I just want to be like all these regular people, I’d even be happy to be like the shallow-water merpeople, but instead I’ve got-- it’s like I’ve got this parasite in me, and every once in a while it rears its ugly head, and it reminds me that I’ll never actually be like them, not in the way it counts.”
Doug didn’t say anything. He just gave Bruce this curious look, like something was clicking into place.
“Tell me more about that,” Doug finally replied, in a neutral tone.
“What do you mean? I just told you.”
“You feel like your identity as a merman is separate from something else in you? Like it’s a problem you’ve got to take care of? Like-- if you just try hard enough to blend in and squash it out, you’ll finally like yourself again. Is that what you mean?”
Bruce frowned. He wasn’t sure he would necessarily have put it that way. But... well, it was accurate. And hearing it out loud made him feel strangely exposed, like Doug had read his mind. “Yes, actually,” Bruce said cautiously. “How did you know that?”
“Because it’s how I felt for many years. How I still feel, sometimes, on my worse days,” Doug admitted.
Ah, right. Doug was a werewolf.
“I had to learn that the wolf, it’s a part of me, Bruce. And hating that part of me still means hating me, because it’s not separate from who I am, no matter how much I try to make it so. You’ve told people about who you are, haven’t you, Bruce?”
“Yes,” Bruce said, though he was distracted, still processing the first thing Doug had said.
“And they accepted you, because of that.”
“...I wouldn’t say because of that. I would say... probably in spite of it.”
“Give them a bit more credit, won’t you?”
Bruce stared at Doug, surprised by the bluntness of his response. Doug was usually a lot more crafty in his responses, leading Bruce to conclusions on his own. But this seemed to hit home, or maybe Doug just felt particularly passionately about it.
He’d never thought about how similar it made them, Doug being a werewolf and Bruce being a deep-sea merman. Bruce had always assumed nobody he met would ever know what it was like to try and live like he did, hiding this horrible secret of what a monster he was, trying his best to separate himself from that identity. Was there really something worth saving there, the side of him that he tried so desperately to destroy?
He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure he agreed with Doug. 
“I want you to try going in the water again,” Doug said finally.
“Doug, you know how that went last time--”
“Nobody else. Just you. I want you to face yourself, the real you. Not the person you want other people to like. None of us are perfect, Bruce. You know better than many that there are monsters that don’t have claws or scales, that don’t bite. Acting human won’t make you a better person. But it will mean you’ve killed a part of yourself. And I think you’ll find, when you start liking yourself, all of you, even the parts you’ve tried to ignore-- it will be a lot easier to be the kind of person you want to be.”
Bruce tried to argue, but Doug wasn’t budging. He seemed adamant about this.
He’d thought he had made so much progress, up until now. But now, Bruce was starting to wonder if he was back at square one-- and whether any of this was really getting him anywhere at all.
1 note · View note
Note
oh my gosh, the poor little prince... 😞😞 hopefully he’ll feel better soon now that nurse mommy is on the case! 💗 how is he doing today?
Apologies for getting to this a day late. I was swept off my feet looking after Roman yesterday.
He was really quite sick, I'm sorry to say. We appear to have broken through the worst of the fever at least which was the most concerning symptom. I'm afraid he won't be back to his normal self for at least a few days still.
Last night was particularly difficult for the little one... his fever was making him slightly delirious, and I don't think he quite understood why he felt so unwell. Though he was little the whole time so I could comfort him in some ways.
Honestly, it was interesting that he behaved much more like Vee. I suppose the limited mental functioning with the fever echoed Vee's memory loss when she regresses. Either way, he was somewhat happy to watch Peppa Pig and Dora the Explorer and suck on popsicles all night. I'm glad he has his littlespace to bring some joy and comfort to this.
I am hoping he feels a little better once he wakes up later. - ⭐️
6 notes · View notes
inber · 4 years
Note
Hello. I'm just messaging today Bc I think I need advice? I'm trying to reblog lots of BLM posts, but I also feel a bit mentally exhausted? In that mentally I'm an emotional wreck? And like I want to be happy and post my usual but then I feel guilty for not posting BLM and idk how to make a healthy balance? Or really how to explain it? And I'm not a P.O.C, so I also feel like atm I don't really deserve to complain abt this? Idk? Fren Anon
(I hope I've worded this decently. Forgive me if I have not; I'm particularly unwell today and a bit woobly with fever.)
Remember that it is not the responsibility of Black people to assuage any guilt you might be feeling right now. Recognise that feelings of guilt and helplessness are a reaction, but they don't serve you, and they don't serve the Black community.
Keep doing small things from home when you can. Donate. Sign petitions. Listen to music by artists who have pledged to donate royalties to BLM causes. Educate yourself and others. Listen to Black friends who need to vent. Speak if there is a reason for your white voice. Stay silent if there is a Black person to speak. Keep the momentum going.
Recognise that doing these things does take of your energy and empathy. That some days you may be able to help for hours. Other days, you may only get a couple of things done. Still others, you may need for yourself.
Again: ditch the guilt. Take the time to heal yourself. You cannot be an ally if you are exhausted. You cannot help if you destroy your sanity.
Turn off the news. Put social media down. Breathe. Refill. Rest. Come back. Fight.
Believe me when I say this battle is far from over. You will have time to help.
I write this under the assumption that you cannot protest in person, like me. I am far too sick to join my fellow Australians in BLM solidarity protests and protests for Indigenous Australian rights. Of course this hurts; I want to lend my physical being and use my privileges to fight. But I must accept the reality that I cannot. I must direct my energy into useful places. I must overcome shame in order to be the best ally I can be.
Doing things from home may feel small, especially in the shadow of courageous Black protesters in the front line. But if every white person did small things from home, we could stand behind oppressed communities and help them to change the world into something worthy. The power of resources - money, numbers - is strong.
Forgive yourself. Let the hunger for justice drive you, not the negativity of remorse. Take care of yourself, and those around you.
37 notes · View notes
nicolasnelson · 4 years
Text
Sizzie fic - Unleash the Chaos [oneshot]
Title: Unleash the Chaos Relationship: Lizzie Saltzman/Sebastian Additional Tags: Sebastian’s POV, Hurt/Comfort, references to mental illness Words: 1,610
Summary: Sebastian seeks out Lizzie for a romantic tryst, but instead he finds her in the middle of an episode.
Requested by @writers-imagines // Prompt: One shot request for Sizzie? How Sebastian reacts to one of Lizzie's episodes?
[AO3 LINK]
Sebastian was the only one who noticed that Elizabeth was feeling unwell. He thought perhaps he would be able to cheer her up, if he could get her alone. On a scrap of parchment, he wrote out his request in elegant script.
Care for a reprieve from this tedious class? I would fancy sneaking into the library with you.
The students beside him were kind enough to pass the note to Elizabeth, though he suspected they did it out of fear. He had that effect on people. He flashed Elizabeth a seductive smile once she looked up at him after reading the note.
She bit her lip, her gaze flicking to the teacher for a moment. She was clearly considering his offer. Her hand glowed red as she placed it against the desk to siphon its magic.
When Sebastian looked down at his parchment, he found a note in Elizabeth’s fine penmanship. Five minutes.
She raised her hand and told the teacher she needed to go to the ladies room for “personal reasons.”
The substitute teacher Dorian Williams, who doubled as the school librarian, let Elizabeth leave the room without question. Smart man.
Sebastian watched the clock on the wall, each tick of the second hand amplified to his ears. His whole body was tensed, ready to pounce the moment the clock hit the end of five minutes. He already had his excuse prepared.
Three minutes in he sensed that something was deeply wrong. The chair collapsed to the floor as he flung himself towards the door. “I’m hungry,” Sebastian snapped, whatever excuse he’d prepared far from his mind.
No one followed him.
Once outside the room, he listened for Elizabeth. It took only a moment to hear her distant scream. With vampire speed, he flitted through the wood to the Old Mill, the place they had first met. 
Candles, books, and chairs, even rusted chains and what looked like a metal gate, flew through the air. They crashed against the brick wall, the wooden chairs splintering into pieces and the metal bits clattering to the ground. Sebastian winced as a book was relieved of its cover after a particularly nasty crash.
It was clear Elizabeth was having a breakdown of some kind, her magic lashing out as an expression of her emotions. After all, witches were deeply entwined with their feelings. They could make her stronger or they could make her careless. Right now, it just seemed like she needed to let it all out.
Elizabeth caught sight of him. “You shouldn’t be here. I don’t want you to see me like this.” The objects in the room moved faster with more intensity.
Sebastian dodged a huge metal disk that could have taken off his head. He kept his own emotions calm. “I’m not going anywhere,” he assured her.
He would not leave, even though it would have been safer for himself, for he knew it would make Elizabeth feel abandoned. And those sort of feelings could lead to self harm.
Sebastian leaned against a wooden post near the brick wall and watched the candles tumbling across the floor. He was careful not to look at Elizabeth, for he knew how embarrassing it felt to have others watch you spiral out of control.
Minutes passed, though Sebastian couldn’t say how many, and the objects settled on the ground.
Elizabeth collapsed against the brick wall, wrapping her arms around her knees. Sebastian approached her slowly and sat beside her, his legs straight and hands folded together in his lap. He would not pry, but he wanted to be there for her in case she needed him. He studied the daylight ring on his finger while he waited for her to speak or get up and leave. Whichever she preferred, he would respect her choice.
“Why did you stay?” Elizabeth asked, her tone soft and gentle. It was refreshing from her usual snark, though Sebastian much enjoyed that side of her too.
“I know you find this hard to believe, but I care about you, Elizabeth.”
Her cheeks went an adorable shade of pink. “I could have hurt you,” she said, winding her fingers together.
“I very much doubt that, Elizabeth. Even if you wanted to hurt me, you would find me quite resilient.” Aside from the metal disk that had almost beheaded him, but he kept that to himself.
“I don’t want to.” Elizabeth sighed, leaning back against the wall. She turned her head towards him.
Sebastian met her gaze, marveling in those beautiful eyes and her tear-stained cheeks. Few people truly appreciated the strength of those who suffered. They were battle wounds she wore with dignity.
“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” Elizabeth said. “Why are you so calm? Aren’t you at least a little afraid of me?”
“Do you want me to be?”
Elizabeth fixed him with a glare, though there was no animosity behind it. “Only sometimes. Aren’t you going to ask me what’s wrong with me?”
“No. For there is nothing wrong with you, Elizabeth Saltzman.”
Elizabeth caught her breath, surprised. “Are you sure you don’t want to leave? Now that you’ve seen what a mess I am.”
“Positive. I know you think I could not possibly understand, but I assure you that I can empathize with your situation.”
“How?”
“Humans have a tendency to assume that once you become a vampire, all your illnesses and afflictions are magically cured, but that is far from the truth. Afflictions of the mind follow you through life and death, and being a vampire merely amplifies them.”
“What do you suffer from?” Elizabeth asked, her eyes alight with curiosity. “Oh, sorry. You don’t have to answer that. I don’t even know why I asked.”
Sebastian smiled at her, amused. He felt so comfortable around her, like he finally had a place to call home. “I do not mind sharing, but I know not what you would call it. In my day these afflictions had no name. We were merely dismissed as being crazy or possessed. My particular affliction sends me into fits of rage with the slightest provocation.”
“Do you hurt people too?” Elizabeth asked, looking at the disaster of broken objects strewn across the floor. She tucked a strand of her silky blond hair behind her ear.
“I…” Sebastian searched for the right word. “I create chaos. But I am trying to be better about unleashing my emotions in healthier ways. Well, maybe not healthier for me, but it certainly leaves everyone else in a healthier state.”
“Sounds like you’re bottling up a lot of rage.”
Sebastian picked up a broken shard of glass from the floor beside him. He held it up to the light, studying it from every angle and watching as the light refracted. How did she manage to see him so well?
“The rage only comes in bursts,” he explained. “I bottle up frustrations. You see, I always have to be the smartest person in the room. It has been that way all my life. While being here is a thousand times better than being trapped in a box, it does make things difficult for me. On one hand, I am fascinated and intrigued by how much new knowledge is available to be learned. But on the other hand, I find myself constantly confused by new words or familiar words which have different meanings, scientific theories that have been disproven. So much has changed in the last five hundred years. It feels like I can no longer be the smartest person in any room.”
Elizabeth reached for his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I don’t have to be the smartest, but I always have to be in control. When I’m not at the Salvatore school, it’s harder for me to have control over my environment. If you thought today was bad…” Her voice trailed off.
“The Salvatore school has been good for me too. At least I am not surrounded by idiotic humans who know nothing of magic or vampires. I get even more frustrated when I am not intellectually challenged. I know, my personality is contradictory.”
“I think most people are filled with contradictions. At least you can admit you have them.”
Sebastian chuckled. “Yes, you are right about that. I am self-aware, as are you.”
“It wasn’t easy for me, though.”
“Nor for me.”
Elizabeth grinned, leaning towards him and touching his arm. “You mean you didn’t come out of the box this way?” Her eyes were expectant, like she’d made a joke, but he didn’t understand what made it funny.
“I did, though. After I was trapped—”
“Oh, sorry. It’s an expression. Like when you buy a toy or something in the store and you open it. Some things come already put together and others don’t.”
Sebastian was grateful that Elizabeth never made him feel stupid. She was calm with her explanations, especially when she wanted him to laugh at a joke. It was clear she wanted such a reaction from him now.
“So you’re saying I am like a toy you wish to play with,” he said with a sly smile.
“You wish,” Elizabeth said, rolling her eyes, though her deepening smile said she shared that same wish.
“Weren’t we supposed to meet up for a tryst in the library?” Sebastian raised an eyebrow.
Elizabeth laughed. She ran her fingers down his arm, her touch like magic. “The library’s too far away. But there’s a perfectly good bed upstairs in the less damaged part of the Old Mill.”
“Sounds comfortable.” Sebastian stood and offered a hand to Elizabeth. She eagerly took his, and they ascended the staircase together.
31 notes · View notes
Note
I’m sorry for “using” your blog for this message. Re: Missclairebelle’s break. Yes yes she needs to take care of herself. I lost a son to suicide, I’m particularly sensitive to mental health. I wish the best for her, it gives me hope that she is taking this step even though I’m so completely sad that it is happening. We don’t need more sadness in this world. Let’s lift up each other please.
My dear Anon,
         no need to apologize. People like you are always welcome here. Let me say this first: I’m sorry for your loss and I’m grateful that you gathered the strength to reach out.            I completely agree with you. And that is the precise reason why I have only expressed my sadness about this matter, but have not written that @missclairebelle should stay. As much as I love her person and writing, I completely respect her decision to do what she thinks is best for her right now. And as an ISTJ I would never pressure a person to stay in a place or in an environment he/she feels unwell in. Because that is not love but pure egoism.          On the other hand, I’m thankful for people like @justinejosephineb, because what she described is my experience too. And I agree with her, as she wrote: “... such negativity is not to be without some resistance. I feel like a fighter today. On with the resistance.” Antis, haters, hateful Anons are a united front by themselves. We, who care for one another, who want to lift up one another and who want to spread goodness, kindness, and beauty, should finally unite too! This fandom is so diverse. We come from a great variety of national, social, religious, political, etc. backgrounds. That is a great gift, we should cherish! We don’t have to hate each other or spread hatred just because we do not agree with each other on certain things! One can always unfollow and follow other blogs! And even if you unfollow someone’s blog because you don’t like what they post, you don’t have to hate the person! I know that my blog/writing is not everyone's cup of tea and I’m fine with that. I don’t like everything I read and see too. But let me make sure: I would work with everyone who tries to make this fandom a more positive space and I’m convinced that we can do that. But we have to unite!
I will not give up my conviction, that together we can change this place back to the positive, where people like missclairebelle and all the others who have left, can find fun and joy again. I am determined to stay positive:
>> On with the resistance! 
23 notes · View notes
purplesurveys · 4 years
Text
812
Is there anyone you work with that you don't get along with? Why? I'm always civil with everyone, and when I get mad at someone I make sure it’s because they really fucked up on a task, and not just because I don’t like their personality or whatever. I’ve always just felt like butting heads with someone is only going to affect my work, so I try not to clash with people. If I don’t like someone for any reason, I usually just minimize my interactions with them. Have you ever been romantically interested in a coworker? ...Does a classmate count? I started crushing on Gab back in high school lol. Have you ever been romantically involved with a coworker? ^ Same question. Do you have any thoughts on a 14-year age-gap? Not a fan. Age gaps in general scare me away, though I think it’s because I’ve only been with someone of the same age. What is the game you're currently playing most often on your phone? Bitlife. It’s like a simpler Sims.
What is your go-to Starbucks order? MAN OH MAN does this question make me miss coffee shops. I get a grande iced caramel macchiato. I get it as is because having so many customization options just makes me overwhelmed. Do you have any friends that you're drifting apart from? I don’t think so. We all just have to be apart right now but once we can see each other again, I’m 110% sure it’ll only be like we hadn’t seen each other in a day. Are you close to someone who is mentally unwell? I think all my friends aren’t mentally okay to some extent. It’s pretty common in our age group. What phone do you have? iPhone 8. What is the last thing you ordered for delivery? Andrew and I had Chinese food delivered to Skywalk after a particularly brutal verbal beatdown from our thesis adviser who had told us to revise big chunks of our thesis ASAP. I was super stressed so I allowed myself to splurge on the Hong Kong noodles I really liked and I specifically asked for three fucking packets of peanut sauce to drown my noodles in lmao. Do you have an opinion on adopting/purchasing a pet? It’s my preferred way of getting a pet. Adopt and don’t shop, plz. What's your favorite chain restaurant? YABUUUUUUUU. If I reach the point where I only had ₱400 left to my name, I’d still most likely spend it on their katsu.  Have you ever dated someone who was of a foreign origin? No...well, Gabie is part Turkish, so kinda? She’s still mostly Filipino though. Have you ever read any of your idol’s books/autobiographies? Out of all the people I fangirl over, only AJ has produced an autobiography and yes, I have her book. Oh I have One Direction’s first book too, but I haven’t been able to buy the next ones that came out. Do you own any succulents? Nope. Can’t take care of plants to save my life. When was the last time you climbed a tree? I’ve never done that, all the trees here have red ants. :/ If you have any pets, how would you describe their personalities? Kimi’s an absolute diva and chooses to follow, listen to, and be sweet with only me. He’ll be super nice when he’s asking for food, but will be quick to stop minding you completely once he’s gotten enough food from you. We give him a pass since he’s a senior dog now, but he’s definitely the snobby type hahaha. What is your phone's background? My home screen is of Hayley Williams; my lock screen is of Beyoncé and Jay-Z on stage. Who played at the last concert you went to? Paramore. Who is playing at the next concert you're attending? I’m really fucking hoping it’s going to be Beyoncé because she’s the only artist left I have yet to see lmao but if not, I’m most likely going to see Paramore again. What's your favorite amusement park ride? I like riding the octopus, but only the one in my high school’s fair. What's your favorite deep-fried food item? Corndogs, for sure. Why were you last pulled over? I got confused with the road rules in Alabang and ended up stopping at a red light albeit over a pedestrian lane. Stilllllll pissed about that instance to this day and I’ve never gotten over how rude the traffic enforcer was towards me. Do you have any friends that own a private lake? I don’t think so, we don’t have a lot of lakes here to begin with. What was the last thing you've done on the water? Take a shower, if I understood this question correctly. Canoeing or kayaking? I kayaked in Palawan when we were there and it was so peaceful and felt like absolute heaven. I’d relive that experience over and over again. What's your favorite lake? Like I said, we don’t really have a lot of lakes here. I don’t even know enough to pick a favorite. Are you cool with swimming in a lake? Sure, why not. Do you have a drone? I don’t. I’m not interested in having one. Do you have a smart watch? Nope. I’d love one but tbh I end up losing every watch I ever try to wear, so buying one would be pointless. What's your favorite hole-in-the-wall restaurant? It’s a bar rather than a restaurant, but Exile was such a fun place to be in. I still don’t understand why they had to close down so suddenly when sooooo many college kids were going there every single day. It’s since been replaced by this random shrimp restaurant, though I think that already closed too since no one ever went there because EVERYONE PREFERS EXILE. It was a very important part of my early college years and it helped me get out from my slump, so I’ll always be grateful that it was around at some point. What do you order from there? I don’t even remember anymore, it shut down two or three years ago. I’ll see if their menu is still up on Zomato... andddd it’s not. It’s like it never existed, sigh. What's your favorite ice-cream flavor? Cookies and cream. They jack up the prices for Ben & Jerry’s here like CRAZY so even though I’ve wanted to try so many of their flavors, I’ve never gotten to try it. I’m not paying ₱500-₱600 for ice cream. Do you have any t-shirts from any local businesses? Yes, I have a couple of shirts from this local business called Artwork. Their employees, who are also artists, produce original designs on t-shirts, bags, pins, shoes, wallets, etc. every week so every time I visit the store, the selection is almost always completely brand new. What is your prettiest friend's first name? Gabriela, hehe. Who is your favorite comedian? Not really into comedians. I like Andy Samberg’s work, but mostly only for Brooklyn Nine-Nine. What's your favorite Netflix series? Queer Eye or Black Mirror, if we’re talking about original Netflix series. Do you listen to any talk shows or podcasts? I regularly tuned in to a morning radio program when I’d drive to school before quarantine started, but that’s it. Do you know anyone who's had their own podcast? Nope, but I have friends and acquaintances who have released other stuff, like vlogs and EPs. Where were you the last time you stayed in a hotel? Cavite. What are you looking forward to, today? Mom bought shawarma so I can’t wait to eat them tonight. What are you looking forward to, in the next few months? For this Covid mess to finally blow over so I can have an actual, tangible graduation and see all my friends again. Are you a dog or a cat person? Dog. Without. A. Doubt. Do you know anyone who is freaked out by cats? Me. They never liked me no matter how nice I am with them, so I can never be around one for more than a minute. There’s only one cat that’s been nice to me – one of the cats that roam around the college, we call him Ginger – but even then, sometimes his claws can get super sharp when we play and it pierces my skin and I get scared, ahuhu. I’m sure cats are super nice and that they make for great pets, but we just can’t ever bond lol. Do you know any with Crohn's disease? No.
1 note · View note
softshirringsound · 5 years
Text
Feelin unwell physically and mentally today guys! A lymph node in my armpit is swollen so I must be getting sick but I don't feel particularly muggle sick yet. I wanted to stay home from work but I already left early yesterday so here I am :(
4 notes · View notes
Text
Blog Post #5
Going into this assignment, I assumed that I would have a variety of multiple events and conversations regarding race, gender, or any other topic relating to privilege to choose from throughout the week. I am a very politically minded person, so I figured that these topics would come up regularly in my life. However, when I began journaling and really became aware of the amount of times I discuss these subjects in my day-to-day life, I found that they came up much less frequently than I had expected. I was fortunate enough at the start of the week to be returning from Washington, D.C., so I had many different experiences with people of different ethnicities and cultural backgrounds on the first day that I kept the journal. As the week went on, though, and I returned to my normal life, I found that I did not even have any experiences to write about on several days. I found it easy to reflect on my own experiences and conversations, as I had to complete a similar assignment for my multiculturalism practicum earlier in the semester. However, it was difficult on certain days to realize that I had not had any outright moments that related to privilege (which in and of itself indicates my own privilege).
After reflecting on each day, I selected to write about events that I felt were experiences or conversations that were particularly unique or relevant. For example, it struck me that when traveling to Washington, I was surrounded by people from all different backgrounds and cultures (I sat near a family that appeared to be of Mexican descent at the gate, and spoke with several airport employees with different accents and English-speaking abilities). I wish that this journaling assignment had not begun on the day that I was returning home, because all of D.C. was the same way. I had many interactions with people from all around the world, from different cultures and ethnicities. My little Pennsylvanian suburb seemed homogenous and very, very white by comparison.
I also tried to reflect on conversations that I had as well as direct interactions. As I did not have many “big” moments regarding race, class, gender, etc., many of my journal entries focused on smaller interactions and conversations. For example, over the weekend I wore a shirt that read “Feminism is the radical notion that women are people,” When talking briefly to one of my neighbors, she read aloud my shirt and remarked that it is especially relevant in today’s political climate. I had not even thought about this assignment when choosing to wear that particular shirt that day, but this brief interactions showed how affected people are by the state of our country.
One pattern that I noticed throughout the week was that I was the one who initiated the majority of conversations related to this course, particularly with family. On Easter, my family and I were discussing the recent threats made by a young woman against schools in Colorado, related to the Columbine shooting. Although we all acknowledged how awful of a situation it was, I was the one who brought up the ability/disability angle with the idea that it was impossible for me to view her as a heartless monster due to her obvious mental health struggles. As everyone else present for the conversation was over the age of sixty, so from a different generation that has not always given mental health the same kind of attention that my generation has, I was concerned about how my thoughts would be received, especially since I have gotten into full-blown arguments regarding other social issues with family. However, I was pleasantly surprised to find that they were all in agreement that an issue of an obviously unwell woman making threats is not as black and white as it is often made out to be.
I also initiated several conversations with my mother over break relating to themes of sexuality in the sitcom “One Day at a Time,” and how the Christian holiday of Easter is so prevalent in every aspect of American society. This was an interesting thing for me to note, and it made me wonder how often these subjects would come up if I wasn’t the one broaching them.
Overall, the connection to our course that was most apparent was how easy it is for people who experience privilege to ignore issues relating to race, gender, sexuality, and other forms of oppression and inequality. As a white, straight woman, subjects such as race and sexuality are not at the forefront of my mind every day, making it more difficult to identify conversations or experiences that relate to them. This connects to the idea of the “invisible knapsack,” in that I am able to live my day-to-day life without being aware, whether mentally or verbally, of most aspects of my identity. I appreciated this journaling activity, as it forced me to become more conscious of these issues in everyday life, and how conversations surrounding them do impact me.
1 note · View note
Text
Living with severe depression and anxiety
How It Actually Feels to Live with Severe Anxiety
My anxiety disorder can make me feel like I'm trapped in a cyclone of negative thoughts and fear. But like many mental health conditions, with the right treatment and techniques, life is very liveable.
By Swastikapete
7th March 2019 Hotel room in the city
SHARE:
TWEET:
UNDERSTAND:
As part of the human body's acute stress system, the "fight-or-flight" response works by stimulating the heart rate, dilating air passages and contracting blood vessels – all of which increase blood flow and oxygen to the muscles, so we can be ready to run away from something life-threatening: a wild mammal, a fast car, a dangerous person. As physiological responses go, it's pretty important. Only, sometimes, we short-circuit a bit.
Charles Darwin, who for years was reported to have suffered from crippling panic disorder that often left him housebound, argued that, to a degree, it is highly evolved to be "on alert" most of the time. But the fight-or-flight response, as explained by Mark Williams and Danny Penman in Mindfulness: A Practical Guide to Finding Peace In a Frantic World, "isn't conscious – it's controlled by one of the most 'primeval' parts of the brain, which means it's often a bit simplistic in the way it interprets danger. In fact, it makes no distinction between an external threat, such as a tiger, and an internal one, such as a troubling memory or a future worry. It treats both as threats that either need to be fought off or run away from." As the Atlantic's Editor in Chief, Scott Stossel, researched in his brilliant and harrowing memoir, My Age of Anxiety, "species that 'fear rightly' increase their chances of survival. We anxious people are less likely to remove ourselves from the gene pool by, say, frolicking on the edge of cliffs or becoming fighter pilots."...
(Sometimes, though, the "dangerous" person is you).
Tumblr media
I've negotiated anxiety in the form of a panic disorder for many years. And many many times it's tipped over into a severe depression – the kind that imprisons you in your flat, unable to do anything but watch Netflix bad Tv play Xbox for days and never leave the apartment and endless YouTube and forever ordering Ubereats and takeaway.
Will this be the time it makes me psychotic? Should I call an ambulance? How many lines of coke and cigarettes will I smoke....how many sleeping pills would I have to take to sleep for 24 hours but not die?
Tumblr media
These are the kinds of questions I've asked myself in the past, stuck in a tornado of negative thought, my ability for rationality sweating out through my armpits while staring at pictures of myself as a child, saying out loud, "Where did she go?" As if there are two versions of me – Version 1.0: Pre-anxious and Version 2.0: Anxious.
Only, it's not an entirely crackpot theory. Through ongoing CBT therapy I've managed to pinpoint the root of my anxiety – a spectacular near-death experience with a burst appendix that swallowed about six months of my life. Turns out that, if you're a sensitive kid, your body going gangrenous and becoming so weak you have to recuperate in intensive care can have quite an impact on your future mental wellbeing. Particularly when the physical ramifications of said episode have basically ruined your insides forever.
My first taste of panic happened during my first week at work 1999 Camden after the Christmas party.... then it happened while working on the floor in the store
Again and again and then
One afternoon, I started to feel nauseous in the stockroom My hands went numb and I felt as if my skull was about to crack like an egg. It was an alien feeling, one with no reference point whatsoever. I went to the toilet and there, for a few minutes, my brain and body weren't my own. I thought I was going to vomit, but nothing came. Just wave after wave of nauseating pressure, from my temples to my toes. Then came a cold, black fear like I'd never known: my head swam, the walls felt like Silly Putty. Absolutely nothing in my body or surroundings made sense. This was possession, pure and simple.
What the fuck is happening to me? Am I dying?
It was too be one of many panic attack, but I didn't know that then. For the next few weeks, I thought about nothing else. It happened again a few times. At night I'd cry, but telling my parents was out of the question. They just wouldn't get it – whatever "it" was. I thought it was a physical thing, something related to my damaged insides. But after three weeks of hell and one totally sleepless night, I went to the GP, alone, who said, "I think you might be having panic attacks," gave me some leaflets, and referred me to an elderly therapist in the community centre next to the Shell garage.....Every next second and its potential escape route had to be mapped out. Just in case. Anxiety is the "what if" disease
This lady's approach was to give me some elastic bands to wear on my wrist, telling me to snap them against my skin every time I felt my internal pressure gauge starting to rise. I don't remember it helping the anxiety itself, but it certainly made me aware that there was a flow of energy that needed to be caught. Somehow.
Years later, I left for university in San Francisco /with more of an understanding about panic attacks and the claustrophobic loops of anxiety they cause. My parents knew because I had to explain the abundance of fawn-coloured elastic in both their houses, and were kind and understanding, but I still lived in constant fear of having one (something I'd later learn was a defining characteristic of panic disorder) when I was out and around other people. Whether I was in lectures, pubs or nightclubs,skateparks it never left me. Not for a minute.
Consequently, like many others with the disorder, I developed a pattern of avoidance behaviours relating to where and when I'd felt anxious in the past: 'No, dick, you can't walk through Berkeley Park to get to that lecture because you had a really bad attack there last week,' or, 'I know that pub only has one toilet, best give it a miss in case I freak out and there's a queue, eh?' I'd say to myself in a never-ending internal dialogue – something my current therapist now refers to as "The Chatterbox". Knowing where the toilets were in every place I was going was an imperative – I had to have somewhere to "escape" to if I started to panic, especially considering that, at the sharp end, my panic mostly manifested with gut issues. If I couldn't see a toilet, or at least a fire exit sign, I was fucked.
Tumblr media
Open spaces were a navigable but daunting prospect and, if I did have to walk through A Park, say, because my friends did, I'd mentally keep track of all the dense bushes I could hide behind – just in case. I had to sit at the end of the row in every lecture or cinema trip – just in case. If I ever got the BART (subway)an increasing rarity, I'd stand by the door, facing the door – just in case.
Tumblr media
Every next second and its potential escape route had to be mapped out. Just in case. Anxiety is a "what if" disease.
Fast forward to the present day and, while I could now write a fucking thesis on living with a panic disorder, I can also tell you that I didn't make proper, significant progress until a few years ago and that I still find the idea of having a panic attack frightening because, well, how could it not be? Only, that fear is lessened now because I have the techniques to manage the anxiety as it starts to swell, rather than when the wave crashes. I know that if I do have a panic attack I'll be alright again afterwards, that I'll deal with it the best I can.
"Few people today would dispute that chronic stress is a hallmark of our times or that anxiety has become a kind of cultural condition of modernity," says Stossel. "We live, as has been said many times since the dawn of the atomic era, in an age of anxiety." But not everyone has a "normal" response to anxiety.
Panic disorder is an anxiety disorder characterised by recurring panic attacks and an ongoing fear of a panic attack happening. Stats surrounding the prevalence of anxiety disorders in the US&UK, which were last compiled in 2007, suggested that 1.1 percent of adults (1.3 percent of women, 1 percent of men) met criteria for panic disorder in an adult psychiatric morbidity study. In the US, the number of adults thought to have panic disorder is higher, at 2.7 percent. These, of course, are just the "officially" mentally unwell – my GP told me recently that anxiety is one of the most frequent complaints she hears from patients. More frequent, sometimes, than coughs and colds.
Panic comes in lots of flavours. It can run the gamut from a gnawing unease in the belly to a fear that feels like being hit by a bullet train. My usual cocktail is a wormy prickling from head to toe, a blanched face, constricted lungs, numb hands and a lurching gut. I feel like I'm going to vomit or shit myself at any second. I have done the former but not, as yet, the latter – despite coming pretty close. It's a lovely old dance, really.
There have been times where I've knelt in alleyways trying to steady my breathing and "hold on" to the ground, to root myself to the physical earth while my body enters what feels like another plane of existence. Anxiety physically manifests in every person differently, though. Some people call ambulances for themselves because it feels like they're having a heart attack. Others hyperventilate. Others puke. Others shake like they're standing pant-less in an Antarctic wind.
There's the cognitive stuff, too. That got worse as I got older – before, the physical symptoms eclipsed the mental ones. Later, it became a waltzer car spin of, 'I am going to explode, I am never going to be safe or normal ever again, my body is failing, everyone is going to see me losing it, I am losing it, I'm losing my mind. This is it. The next step is hard restraints on a psychiatric ward.
I am going to die. This is killing me.
Tumblr media
The carousel doesn't stop spinning once the anxiety has peaked, either. It surges – albeit less powerfully – a few more times, until it passes. And then the exhaustion grips, with a claw on every finger.
Panic comes in lots of flavours. It can run the gamut from a gnawing unease in the belly to fear that feels like being hit by a bullet train
At various stages of my life, I've had panic attacks every day, more than once a day. My first "breakdown" (therapists discourage us from using that word these days, but that's what it felt like) in my third year of university built as my fear of having a panic attack became a 24/7 obsession. I feared walking to the Tesco that was 100 yards away, let alone going to lectures. I needed a "get out" plan for every possible eventuality, even if that was just nipping across the road to the corner shop for milk.
Eventually, this much mis-placed adrenalin became unsustainable for my poor old brain. I became very depressed.
Proper depersonalisation, the inability to not sleep for 16 hours straight and a total lack of appetite – I lost a stone in three weeks – happened very quickly. I just couldn't move. After five days of lying still on my bed, listening to Radiohead kid A over and over again (I'd read that Radiohead was great depression music or was that all in my head...so somehow it felt apt) as a summer breeze tapped my neighbour's eucalyptus tree branches against my window, I became increasingly worried about what to tell my lecturers and parents. Again, I went to my Doc,GP. It took me two hours to get there – there being just over a mile away. He prescribed Sertraline (an SSRI frequently prescribed for anxiety disorders), diazepam and referred me for therapy – I'd had none since I left for San Francisco then London , despite still spending every day locked in a web of avoidance behaviours and being aware that erratic behaviours and days were limping by like, well, wet salad. I wasn't quite "living", never fully in the moment.
Tumblr media
I didn't like the therapist he referred me to, though. She was very young, spent the entire time box-ticking (literally, on a clipboard) and rarely looked me in the eye. I stopped seeing her after four sessions, thinking: It's not fucking worth it. I thought that, because both therapists I'd seen in the past hadn't been able to help me stop my panic attacks in a short space of time, I was immune to help and intervention. I believed this until about three years ago, that I was pretty much treatment-resistant without drugs.
The new medication did nothing miraculous or definitive – I just felt, over time, able to step outside my obsessive thought webs for longer periods, and that in turn helped me to cope, within my parameters. It's only with hindsight that I can realise what a huge strain I was on my partner at the time, not communicating why I still needed to do and not do certain things. I was deeply ashamed and embarrassed, though, rarely telling anyone what was really going on in my head for fear of sounding "crazy" – even the person I was in a relationship with. In fact, there was only one friend who really knew. Still, I coped, in my own, pot-holed way.
I stayed on the antidepressants for a couple of years, making progress in my career quite fast. The fear of having a panic attack or being "caught out" still draped the back of my mind every day, but the curtains had become less heavy. When I would have an attack – one a week, rather than every day – it'd take a few days to get back to normal, but I was alright, really.
I coped when I came off the drugs, too, with another new therapist (older, more mumsy) in tow, until about three years ago. I was going from great job to great job, MTV snowboarding writing a lot, travelling the world interviewing people I admired. On the surface, I was buoyant; gliding through life like a heatseaker missile and able to take whatever it threw at me – tense meetings, long-haul flights, tighter and more high-profile Interviews art commissions. But under the surface it had become chaos again. Paddle paddle paddle, it was. I couldn't accept that I should have maybe stayed on the antidepressants. In some part of my mind, they were a last resort. The point of almost-failure and the penultimate step before straitjackets and electric shock therapy.
Tumblr media
Why did I need a pill that, when I put it between my lips every day, made me think I was an invalid that needed drugs to function properly? So what if my friends were getting increasingly weary of me cancelling on them last-minute because I'd had a panic attack/breakdown en route to meet them and couldn't imagine moving any further than whichever street corner I was on? Why should they know?
I wasn't coping, though. That's the thing and has always been the thing. I was pretending and I needed help. Over the years, I'd become a master of disguise – no one, but no one, could have told you I had an anxiety disorder, save for my inability to get on the tube for more than a couple of stops. If I started to get panicky when out with people, I'd just go home early. Avoidance behaviour after avoidance behaviour enabled me to live what appeared on the surface to be a normal life. Then, three years ago, I had another breakdown – that word again, but, for me, it's the only thing that fits. This time it was much worse than before.
It had been building for a while, looking back. I didn't like my jobs and lifestyle very much, despite the status and worth it gave me. I'd run out of excuses for flaking on my friends. I needed more metal surgery – a terrifying prospect for me that my therapist just couldn't seem to help me rationalise. Travelling for work became increasingly stressful, each airport departure lounge lifting the cloche on a new set of anxiety symptoms. Before going to Bolivia for an assignment for Sleaze-nation, I sat in a toilet in Terminal 3 convinced, plain as day, that my neck vertebrae were about to snap in two and paralyse me because the pressure in my head was so strong as my thoughts spun themselves into a tangle.
Tumblr media
What happens if I have panic attacks in the middle of the Bolivian countryside? Who will help me? What happens if I freak out on the plane and throw up everywhere because I can't get to the toilet in time? What if I freak out in a part of the world where I know no one and end up being locked away somewhere because no one knows what to do with me?
What if, what if, what if. It's exhausting and boring just typing it. Eventually, each panic attack I had would take longer to get over than the last and, over the space of a couple of weeks, they joined up in a constellation of frustration, tears and despair.
I became very depressed again. This time, the "break" was marked by crying, dizziness and a near total inability to over-eat, rapid drugtaking to the point of trying to overdose which, for anyone that knows me, would be the most alarming thing of all. I went to bed one night and woke up a different person; someone who couldn't walk in a straight line, couldn't stop crying, couldn't eat a single slice of toast in less than an hour, couldn't answer the door to the postman, couldn't run a bath, couldn't answer the phone, couldn't feed the cats. Physically, it felt like looking over the edge of The Shard the entire time; a deep vertigo at the very core. I was desperate. Fear had eclipsed everything.
Over the years, I'd become a master of disguise – no one, but no one, could have told you I had an anxiety disorder, save for my inability to get on the tube for more than a couple of stops
Tumblr media
Depression and anxiety often go hand-in-hand. My rational brain knew that, but on the crest of this new terror, I couldn't accept it. I couldn't accept that my brain had had enough of being frightened of itself, that depression had become a symptom of my anxiety because it was overloaded. That, to me, was failure. I had failed and I'd never come back. For three weeks, I didn't go further than the shop at the end of my road and felt, for the first time in my life, rationally suicidal – or, more accurately, desperate for a tangible end to a living hell. I didn't really want to die, though; I wanted to see the little black eyes of the babies I longed to birth, the arid sands of the deserts I wanted to visit.
I just didn't want to be living in fear of the next minute.
On the day I found myself staring at the medicine cabinet for a bit too long, working out what might knock me out for a decent amount of time but not leave me needing a stomach pump and a stay in a psychiatric ward, I looked online for the nearest CBT therapist to me. He was less than 3 miles away from my Apartment. Luckily, I was able to see him that same afternoon. He told me, "This is peaking now, you can regain control," and, despite my legs violently shaking against the chair (a fruity new symptom) and battling the urge to run out of his living room and straight back into my bed, I listened. He was funny, swore a lot and had an in-depth, scientific knowledge of why the brain behaves as it does, which appealed to me.
Tumblr media
That afternoon was my first real turning point in 20 years. After starting out doing two sessions a week with him, I went to my GP and was prescribed a low dose of a new SSRI – Citalopram, another antidepressant that's effective in treating anxiety disorders – and, within a month of this intensive, two-pronged approach, along with a commitment to sticking to mindfulness exercises, I began to feel hopeful.
That was four years ago now, and I'm coping. Actually coping, with a demanding full-time job(Youth worker and behavioural psychologist)...
People – high-functioning, highly successful people – are crying out to talk about their mental health. Someone just has to push that first “Button and begin the process”
All my friends now know I have a tendency for hyper Mania and panic attacks and, as with most of these grand revelation-style things you build up in your head, when I "came clean" about the reason I'd been so flaky in the past, none of them were fussed. They still aren't. People care, deeply, but are generally reasonable once you've explained something to them – be it struggling a bit mentally sometimes or tie-dying the hair in your bum crack. They just want to try to understand what you're saying, offer support, then get on with their lives.
Not talking about our mental health just doesn't work out well. As Stossel writes: "My current therapist, Dr W, says there is always the possibility that revealing my anxiety will lift the burden of shame and reduce the isolation of solitary suffering. When I get skittish about airing my psychiatric issues in a book, Dr W says: 'You've been keeping your anxiety a secret for years, right? How's that working out for you?'"
If I can add my own tuppence worth to the conversation, the most crucial thing I've learned about treating anxiety is that you need to find a therapist you like. If that means "shopping around" until you find someone you're comfortable and can completely brain-dump with, and you have the resources to do so (most private therapists offer concessionary rates if you ask), that's OK. If you are relying on NHS services through your GP and don't like or get on with who they refer you to, ask for someone else – it's your health and you don't have to stick with someone you feel weird around, just as it's your right to ask for second opinions with physical illness. Your brain is an organ and it needs proper maintenance when it gets ill. It is, like Louis Theroux said of his own therapy experience when I interviewed him recently, "Like looking under the bonnet of a car and seeing what's going on."
With this therapist, who I'll call "S", I've realised that the absolute backbone of me being able to function properly was accepting that there was no "cure" to make me better – only techniques and interventions (in my case, medication) to make life liveable. Frustration is too close to anxiety and the constant "WHY THE FUCK IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME" thing, like not talking to anyone, makes it worse. It's too much pressure.
How did I go from telling no one about my issues to writing in such detail here, you might rightly ask. To which there is a very simple answer: people all over the world plough the internet every day searching for mirrors to their own pain, looking for evidence that people have overcome dire mental discomfort. An echo. When I was unwell, that is all I wanted – some idea that I could come out of those black woods.
It's a very base idea that being more open about our own experiences with mental illness will encourage others to talk about theirs. But it's true. Stossel writes about attending a dinner with a bunch of writers and artists in his book, and how, after he'd spoke about its progress, each of the other nine people responded by "telling me a story about his or her own experience with anxiety and medication. Around the table we went, sharing our tales of neurotic woe."
I've been in a similar situation more times than there is to recount here. People – high-functioning, highly successful people – are crying out to talk about their struggles with mental health. No one would feel ashamed discussing an arrhythmia: why should an instability in the brain be taboo over one in the heart? People want to be heard – someone just has to push that first domino. And this idea that we'll be "revealing" too much – as I have been fearful of in the past – making people uneasy or run the risk of forever painting ourselves as a "crazy person" by talking about our mental health is so very wrong. It's question of health full stop. The man who served you your coffee this morning may have overcome cancer a few years ago. Or, he may have overcome a bout of severe, disabling depression. He may have attempted suicide and been sectioned, but you'd have no idea because he has recovered and is getting on with his life the best he can.
2 notes · View notes
john-langley-author · 2 years
Text
The bitterness of humankind. Thursday, January 13th, 2022.
My morning constitution of sipping hot chocolate outside in the cold morning January air while considering today's blog topic was precipitated by thoughts as I was waking up today.
Somehow, and I haven't yet made the connection, my mind turned to the situation of our current Prime Minister and how quickly tables turn against people and how quickly negativity overrides anything positive about someone.
It's not that I'm defending Johnson in any way, or for that matter calling him out particularly like the example in question here. I think it simply reminded me of people I have known who, no matter how much kindness I've shown them, taking them in when they have had nowhere else to go, provided sanctuary from domestic violence, fed, clothed, given money to and provided assistance through their personal difficulties, it seems to be human nature that instead of being thankful for the happy times, the supportive times, and the caring moments we share with others they will remember the one big disagreement, that one thing you said or did - and that every bit of goodness you had invested in our relationships becomes overshadowed by negative feelings.
It happens in relationship breakups and divorces where children suddenly become owned by one parent, and the insignificance of who gets to keep the teaspoons can be a dealbreaker. It leads me to question as to how we've got to this in 'human' relationships when all I see and understand is how inhuman we can be to one another.
This causes me to pause and reflect on myself. It's that internal zen I feel towards others where I forgive and hold no malice against anyone, no matter what they may have done to me, and the fact I am able to move on from seeming personal injustices.
Life is far too short to hold grudges against others. Grudges and issues I see as being an emotional cancer eating people up and causing unnecessary stresses which by virtue of cause and effect manifest as physical illnesses that only serve to weaken the human physiology, as well as creating states of mental unwellness.
I suppose by extension to this I could dip into the territory of the Edward Colston statue here in Bristol, and by example how his latter philanthropic achievements helped towards making Bristol the city it is now, and how conversely the current loathing of him overshadows yet again the goodness in someone.
I may not have mentioned before that I took out some time in my life to practice as a member of the Bahá’í faith, and from which I learned many things that enabled my life to shape differently from then on. Especially when it comes to people -
"To look always at the good and not at the bad. If a man has ten good qualities and one bad one, to look at the ten and forget the one; and if a man has ten bad qualities and one good one, to look at the one and forget the ten."
"To be hurt and to forgive is saintly, but far beyond this is the power to comprehend and not be hurt. This power we may have – acceptance without complaint - and it should become associated with our name. We ought never to be known to complain or lament. It is not that we make the best of things, but that we may find in everything, even in calamity itself, the germ of enduring wisdom."
So why has humanity gone so terribly wrong!
0 notes